BTW, is picking up a mundane lock from Grok something that can be handwaved, or does it still require a full ship's action to acquire one? I can't rightly recall if it's something that was just assumed was done, or needed to be expressly taken care of.

Eleuterio frowns as he sees the swelling around Chum's wounds. "I don't care for the look of it at all, Master Chum. I can't say whether it was the rat bites themselves or the festering water, but you should have that looked at before the infection spreads. We can take a look at that tonight - just keep it clean, and I'll try to scrounge up something strongly alcoholic to help."

He ignores the jab about rat meat, but perks up when locks are mentioned. "No need to invest in a lock, there was one hanging loose in the galley. I'll apologize for appropriating it at a later date, but we can use it for now."

Getting pretty much anything from the store, even a lock, takes enough time to require a ship action - Grok's attitude toward conversation is such that you can't really get in, get something and get out quickly. And Eleuterio, you put the lock on your own duffel; are you suggesting then that that's where you want to store the spoils? Regardless...

With your finds stashed, you return to the deck and present the bodies of the rats to Mr. Plugg, who scowls in reply and snaps, "Then get out of my face and back to work, you lazy ratcatching scallywags!" The boy assigned to the bilges, Jack Scrimshaw, heads below again with a mournful expression, and Plugg cracks his cat o' nine tails threateningly before turning to other matters.

You still have today's tasks to perform, but you wrapped up your search of the bilges fast enough that you can still take a ship action as well. Today's tasks:

Artevious returns to working on manning the lines to the mainsail (requiring a DC 10 Profession (sailor) or Strength check, plus a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid fatigue at the end of the day), while Chum and Evril both go back to delivering messages (requiring a DC 10 Acrobatics check, plus a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid fatigue at the end of the day). Back in the galley, Eleuterio finds that Fishguts is in a talkative mood, and he and Grok are happily swilling rum and chatting about all sorts of topics. Eleuterio has no task today, and can in fact make an two ship actions if he wants - but has to deal with a rum ration this morning as well as (presumably) one tonight.

You can all make your task rolls and take your ship actions - I'll remind you again that taking 10 is allowed on task rolls. Also, I've added some more information to the crew list on the information tab for the campaign - the skill list after the crew members you've made friends with indicates which skills they can give you a +2 on.

I am, in fact, making that suggestion. I'll be taking the rum ration now, and trying to toss the other one. So much for quitting cold turkey.

Eleuterio raises an eyebrow as he hears laughter rising from the galley, but is pleased to find Grok and Fishguts boozing it up and swapping stories. Eager for a reprieve from the heat from the bilges, he pours himself a measure of rum, and joins in with them. "Thank you for the use of the spear, Fishguts - Master Chum put it to good use. I think the rats have been getting at your leftovers, as they'd grown big enough to maim a tomcat." He took another sip of the rum, wincing slightly. "Bracing stuff, that. So, um, how did you and Grok meet? Just fell in on the Wormwood through circumstance? Or did you know each other before signing on?"

Mechanics:

Trying a Diplomacy check to move Fishguts from friendly to helpful. Not sure what my rum bonus will be, so we'll add that in afterwards, if it's relevant.

The harrowing battle in the bilges still fresh on my mind, I thought an esteemed comrade might be interested in the tale. So while working the mainsail, I caught up with Crimson Cogward and regaled him with our violent, and smelly, fight with the overgrown rodents. I made sure to describe my last sword stroke in gruesome detail, as I had rather neatly skewered the oversized rat with daring precision. Certainly nothing compared to the conflicts my father had found himself in, but I suppose one must start somewhere.

During my travels around the ship, I pause for a few moments to trip over a coil of rope, then head below decks to check on Scrimshaw. "How's the arm, Master Scrimshaw? Me'n the others managed to fell the beasts that assaulted you, but it's pretty nasty down here."

Chum's wounds ache when he hears his task for the day. Instead of rushing (and falling) like last time, he decides to go for 'sure and steady', concentrating on getting to his destination upright and not bumping into the other folks on the deck.

At the end of the day, he doesn't know if he's escaped the lash or not, but he certainly feels more refreshed than last time. It's the first day in a while he could actually focus on the fact that he's on the open sea - regardless of the circumstances, that's where he needs to be.

Chum, in his running back and forth, thinks of the poor fellow chained in the main hold. The next time he is able to pass near that area, he pokes his head in to ask, "Are you OK down here? Anything I can get for you?"

Fishguts' rather blurry depiction of his first meeting of Grok is enthusiastic, if not necessarily intelligible. Eleuterio picks up that it happened in Port Peril, and somehow involved Grok saving Black-Hearted Bezebel's life, though from what Eleuterio can't quite puzzle out. (That might be the effect of the rum, however.)

Artevious' tale of anti-rodent derring-do might not have the epic scale he would have preferred (although surely a man as conversant with the classics as M'sieu de Poisson is aware of the great literary history that pits budding heroes against giant rats?), but a story told with panache makes up for all sorts of other sins, and Cogsward seems more than appreciative. By the time the story has finished, he is actually smiling - rare indeed! - and claps Artevious on the shoulder. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he says finally, "but I'm really glad you got pressganged, Art. Remind me sometime to show you the things I've managed to scrounge up since we came on board... I might have something you or one of your friends might find useful."

And Cog is now helpful as well! Another 100 XP each!

In the sweltering heat of the bilges, young Jack Scrimshaw seems shocked that Evril - that anyone - came below to see him. After getting past the astonishment, the boy nods his agreement. "It sure is," he replies darkly, "and that's even without the spiders. You seen 'em down here, Mister Evril? Big as your fist, they are, and I've heard the skin'll turn brown and just fall right off if they bite you! I always keep my dagger handy down here, just in case; been nearly bitten three times, I have. Oh! But you asked about my arm! It's fine, sir. Miss Sandara fixed me right up, said her prayer or whatever over it, and there's not even a scar." Evril notes the boy's expression gets slightly vague at the mention of "Miss Sandara," and an absent grin appears as well. Regardless, Evril's display of compassion for the boy seems to have made quite an impact on Jack, who chats amiably for a bit before the two go back to their daily tasks.

Jack's now all the way past friendly to helpful as well! Good work, gentlemen! You guys are on a roll! Another 50 XP!

Below, Chum tries to speak to the man chained to the mast - only to have him lunge forward, roaring, massive hands grasping as though trying to rip the half-elf's head off and only the chain itself keeps him from managing it. Chum flees back above, grateful to still have all his limbs.

All in all, quite the good day, I mused as I saluted Mr. Cogward in thanks for his offer. The rat bites itched somewhat, but I was back above decks and out of that mire. They should be healed up in no time.

I pondered about the rum ration this evening. I had no doubt that my abstinence had helped my recovery from my fatigue from yesterday, and I felt like continuing that trend, as it were. I might "decline" the ration again, but this time making sure that gnome was out of eyeshot.

Eventually, the day's tasks do wind to a close, and the "Bloody Hour" comes 'round again. While everyone really expects Evril to get a beating, thanks to his terrible performance delivering messages, Mr. Plugg surprises everyone by calling out, "Mr. Pwassen!" just as two of his cronies grab Artevious by the arms. "According to a report from Mr. Shortstone," and the gnome with the eyepatch grins sadistically across the deck at Artevious, "you spilled your rum ration overboard last night! The punishment for such carelessness is six lashes, and best you don't do it again unless you'd like the taste of the cat instead!" The two sailors drag Artevious roughly over to the post, and Mr. Scourge sets to work with his typical "enthusiasm."

The two men are pulled aside as the rum ration is handed out (which means I need to know again if anyone decides not to drink it) and dinner is served, and then the evening's usual carousing and entertainments begin.

Nighttime ship actions? Note that the list of available skill bonuses on the campaign info page has been updated to include your new friends from this morning.

Chum found the man in the hold on a previous scouting mission. He 'forgot' to tell anyone about the man because he felt bad about leaving him chained in the hold. Convinced that the man is insane, he will share what little he knows about him with the others when the opportunity presents itself.

"Strange - there's a man in the hold, chained to the mast. When I tried to speak to him, he acted more like an animal than a man. I think he's probably dangerous."

Thanks, DM. It's not a terribly interesting one, but important nonetheless.

As the paladin finishes his measure, his eyes widen in realization. "Ah, Grok! I almost forgot again - this rum is such strong stuff, and throttles my memory in its grasp. Several things were, um, let us say 'liberated' from my possession when I was brought aboard. I'm a much better fighter with my cutlass than with a spear - could I get those things back from you?"

Sorry, party members - Eleuterio's been at the rum again; otherwise, he'd ask for your stuff as well!

When night falls, Eleuterio follows the same routine as the night before. His jaw is set in an angry grimace as Plugg whips Masters Cooper and Poisson into oblivion, rekindling his desire to see the man lashed to death by his own whip. He tosses the rum over the side when he thinks there's nobody watching them, and listens in bewilderment about Chum's experience with "the beast in the hold."

"Interesting, Master Chum. To be chained up so suggests that even the Captain is frightened of him, but he is necessary in some way - otherwise, that black-hearted bastard would throw him over the side with an anchor around his ankles. Might be something we could use. Let's see what we can find out about him." He casts about for some of the crew relaxing, perhaps playing at some game of chance to join.

Are you taking 10 on the Stealth check for the rum? Also, you get 200 XP for getting your stuff back.

Eleuterio looks around, finding a few options for gambling that might catch his interest. On a nearby barrel, Jaundiced Japes is arm-wrestling the big Rahadoumi man that is one of the two sailors Scourge and Plugg usually call on when lashing people to the bloody post; all around the edge of the barrel, sharp chips of broken glass are mixed with rusty nails, all of it glued firmly in place and stained with old, dried blood. Two piles of gold indicate the bets that have been placed - it looks as though about a dozen gold pieces, all together, are riding on the outcome.

Elsewhere, several pirates are heaving a greased, leather-wrapped lead ingot across the deck and betting on how far it will travel; a circle of sailors watch two men throw dice and bet on the outcome - Eleuterio can hear the traditional call of "bounder, bounder, bounder!" as the dice spin over the deck; and a group of four sailors, including Rosie Cusswell and Conchobar Shortstone, seem to be trying to literally drink each other to death with guzzled round after guzzled round of rum ration.

I doubt I'm in a position to ask, but given the wounds from the rats, plus more on top from the lashes, any healing would be greatly appreciated.

My elation over my comrades' and my victory over the rats was brought to a sudden and abrupt halt as Master Scourge spoke. I could scarcely protest as the lashes began. Already woozy from the wounds I suffered from the rat bites, the pain quickly sent me into unconsciousness, though I was mutely aware that they continued. The pain was fierce, hot burning stripes across my back, and I was glad to pass out.

We can take 10 on discarding the rum? Why don't I think of these things? Taking 10 on discarding the rum.

Heal for Evril 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Heal for Artevious 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Chum dresses the lads' wounds after their turn at the whipping post is done.

He goes through the line for the rum ration, careful not to show his distaste after seeing Artevious' treatment, and carries the mug around with him as he watches the different games of chance, stopping to observe whichever catches Eleuterio's eye.

After appearing to sip at the rum for a while, he will excuse himself to go belowdecks. He makes his way to the bilges and, after wetting his lips and the front of his shirt with the alcohol, tosses the balance of the mug's contents into the bilgewater. Maybe it will stunt the growth of those rats, make them easier to kill next time.

He will try to find the cleric on deck, also, and mention Eleuterio's concern about his rodent bites from the fight to see if she agrees as to whether they are cause for concern.

Sandara moves closer to the two unconscious sailors, smiling approvingly at Chum's work at treating their wounds, before pulling her skull and crossbones symbol from beneath her shirt and concentrating for a moment. There is the usual green flash of light, and healing energy sweeps across the deck. Everyone heals 2d6 ⇒ (1, 2) = 3 lethal and the same amount of nonlethal. Seeming unsatisfied with the results, she does it again. And another 2d6 ⇒ (4, 5) = 9 lethal and nonlethal healed.

Kneeling over Evril as he awakens, Sandara studies him with a blank expression. "Did that hurt?" she asks levelly.

Pretending to misunderstand (and badly), Chum says, "No, actually, that felt pretty good... Oh, you were talking to him..." With a grin, he waits patiently for the patients to regain their feet before inquiring about his wounds. As stated earlier, but now would seem like an opportune time.

Examining the games, Eleuterio decides on heading out to the pirates hog lobbing about the deck. "What are the stakes, boys? I've a mind to pass the time tonight and perhaps come away with a bit o' coin."

Sandara scowls. "Yes, it bloody well is, and the Pirate Queen's not overfond of them's as can't manage to do their part on a ship. Get your act together, Andoren, or I'll actually start letting Scourge have his way with you." With that, she turns away, bending to examine Chum's bites. Her frown turns to one of more concern than anger. "I'm not much for actual healing beyond what the Queen passes through me, but I'm not liking what I see here. You might be in for a rough couple of days if you can't shake it quick. We'll do what we can to help, though."

Examining the games, Eleuterio decides on heading out to the pirates hog lobbing about the deck. "What are the stakes, boys? I've a mind to pass the time tonight and perhaps come away with a bit o' coin."

The three players - Tilly Brackett, Fipps Chumlett and an older woman whose hair is shaved down to her scalp over both ears - look at Eleuterio with unfriendly expressions, but apparently the chance to win his gold is enough to overcome their distaste at his presence. "Three crowns a throw," the older woman says, "winner gets half, second a third, and third gets whatever's left. Drop your coin on the stack or walk on by, Iomedaen."

In order to make your throw, you make a CMB check, at a -4 penalty because the "hog" counts as an improvised weapon; the result of the roll is how far the hog went in feet. With you in the mix, you'll get 6 gp back for winning, 4 gp if you get 2nd, 2 gp for 3rd and zilch for 4th.

Eleuterio pretends not to notice the glares they give him, and reaches into a pouch to throw the three coins onto the pile. "Hand over the hog. Let's see how far it'll go."

He hefts the ingot to his shoulder, squats and throws it as far as his strength will allow!

Mechanics:

CMB: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (13) - 1 = 12

Quite pleased with his showing, he leans back against the wall to speak with the rest of the group. "Have at it, scallywags. If you want to be beating that lob, you'd best fetch the beast in the hold. What be his story, anyway?"

Mechanics:

As they take their turns, Eleuterio will narrow his eyes and detect evil on all three of them. I doubt I'll get anything, but might as well use it!

As I staggered to my feet, feeling whole and much restored, I couldn't help but think, That gnome certainly seems to have it out for me. I forced some bitter and ugly further thoughts away. He was, after all, still part of this crew.

Hearing the words of Sandara to Mr. Cooper, I realized I'd been neglecting my new comrades. I piped up. My thanks, Lady of Besmara! Evril, I'd be happy to give you some pointers and assistance to help make you one of the fiercest sailors this ship has ever seen! It shall be a mission of mine to make sure you never fall under the lash again!

Evril and Chum both note there are two pirates who don't seem to have a strong position with any clique on the ship: "Ratline" Ratsberger, the halfling with the oddly rat-like face, and Giffer Tibbs, the one-eyed gnome woman Artevious spoke with on that first day. There remain several others, though, they can't manage to get a read on.

Across the deck, Eleuterio watches as the other three pirates take their turns tosses the hog:

As Tilly collects her winnings and Fipps looks even more murderous than he did before, the third woman, "Badger" Medlar, shrugs. "That's Owlbear," she replies, smiling at her extra coin. "I'd stay clear of him if I were you." She turns the smile - which has some teeth to it now - on Eleuterio. "If you can, that is."

Did Artevious have any plans for the night, now that he's conscious again?

Once my mind was made up about assisting my good friend -- mate, that is -- I knew I'd need to enlist help, since I couldn't very well be shouting advice and instructions from the rigging. Well, I could, but it would likely not be of the kind that would be appreciated by the rest of the crew. Most likely, we needed further allies amongst the crew. The one-eyed gnome woman was a swab, and could possibly lend Mr. Cooper the assistance I'd be out of reach.

I approached her when the opportunity presented itself. Hello and ahoy, my good miss. Artevious de Poisson, at your service. I was wondering if it would be appropriate if I asked you to lend some assistance to our dear comrade, Evril Cooper. He has been having a rough go of it of late, and in the spirit of good crewmanship and building up a true and mighty presence here in the Shackles -- a rising tide lifts all ships, as they say -- I would ask you to give him a few pointers should he have need.

The gnome considers the matter for a moment, her good eye sweeping up and down Artevious' expression. "You know," she says, not answering him directly, "I've spent the last three days trying to figure out if you're serious. There's those what say gnomes are strange, and I admit we certainly can be, but you! You, sir, would make a Port Peril carnival look like a bunch of Bleached Irori nuns. So I've been trying to figure you out. Are you insane? On some kind of drugs? Do you have visions, like one of those sea-oracles I've heard tell of?" She laughs softly, and there is a note of sadness in it. "In the end, I suppose, it doesn't really matter - you sail with the wind you've got, am I right? And right now, you're the only ones tacking 'gainst Scourge and Plugg, let alone Harrigan. So yeah, crazy man, I'll lend a hand to your inept Andoren friend. And if you decide you want help with something else, something more... decisive... well, I'll lend a hand right quick with that as well."

Mr. Plugg assigns Artevious to work the mainsail requiring a DC 10 Profession (sailing) or Strength check, followed by a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid fatigue, while Mr. Scourge sends Evril back to swab the decks (Strength or Constitution check, DC 10; failure also results in fatigue) and Chum to run messages again (DC 10 Acrobatics check and DC 10 Constitution check to avoid fatigue). Below, Eleuterio has to help Kroop cook the day's meal (Fishguts' sobriety check: 1d100 ⇒ 20), but since Fishguts is pretty much completely soused, "helping" basically means doing it himself (with a DC 10 Profession (cook) or Intelligence check - if you roll the Profession check, though, you can make use of the recipe book you found, as well as the general equipment of the kitchen as a whole now that you've sorted through it all, for a total of a +4 circumstance bonus to your roll).

[ooc}Roll your checks and declare your ship actions, if you will. Also, if you still have Constitution damage from the rum, you can heal a point.[/ooc]

Eleuterio let out a small sigh of exasperation as he heard Fishguts slurring through a bawdy shanty. Wonderful, he's been at the rum again. Thank the Inheritor I found that cookbook! He spends some time working on the meal, a simple meal of salt pork and hardtack, with a soup heavily spiced to cover up the fact the ingredients weren't exactly fresh from the earth.

With his soup simmering, the hardtack rising and his supervisor soused, a thought struck Eleuterio. "I need to get some more eggs from the hold, Fishguts. Mind the stew!" He heads amidships towards the hold, a bowl of this morning's gruel in hand. He finds the man as Chum described him - massive, hulking, and caged like an animal. He grimaced, not at the man, but in indignation of his predicament. "I understand you're called Owlbear here. My name is Eleuterio Reis, and I mean you no harm." He showed Owlbear the bowl of gruel, and pushed it carefully towards the caged brute. "I just want to talk. No tricks."

I was surprised there was no morning group of roustabouts interested in pummeling me into unconsciousness this morning, but apparently this tradition didn't occur every morning as I had previously surmised. I made my way to the deck, awaiting my next chore aboard the Wormwood. While the drudgery of daily life aboard a pirate ship had its moments (and its moments of sheer unpleasantness), I was more than ready for a bit more derring-do.

Taking 10 on the Acrobatics check again for a 12, rolling for the Constitution check.

Constitution1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9

With the Shop action, I believe this gives him an Acrobatics check of 10 and a Con check of 7.

Chum repeats his 'slow and steady' performance from the prior runner's task, but he's sure they intentionally give him more than his share of the running as he's totally worn down at the end of the day.

While belowdecks on one of his tasks, however, he comes by the purser's store to speak to Grok about his missing gear.

Eleuterio determines that the large man is distinctly unfriendly, a task made easier by the way he shouts, "Get out get out get out!" and rushes toward the paladin, caught up at the last moment by the chains that bind his neck and ankle.

Chum can hear the shouting at the other end of the hold, where Grok's store is; Grok ignores it, though, just as she ignores the sleeping Fishguts in the galley while the stew slowly boils over. "What can I do for you, handsome?" the half-orc asks, grinning. "If you're getting lonely, you're welcome to come inside, but I'm a bit worried I might break you." She laughs raucously, and quirks an eyebrow at the half-elf.

Artevious' tasks were successful, but did he have a ship action in mind as well?

During the drudgery of my task, my mind began whirling, as it occasionally was wont to do. I've been on this ship several days, and yet have only met the captain but briefly, and only just to be informed of my current predicament. Given the current animosity of Mssrs. Plugg and Scourge, I doubted very much that any stellar efforts on my part were being reported to the captain. As such, getting recognized, and possibly promoted, would be out of the question unless I did something about it.

I noticed an opportunity in the cabin girl, Caulky Tarroon. Perhaps if I befriended her, she might be willing to keep me abreast of the captain's affairs, and could maybe mention me in passing.

My mind made up, I offered a brief greeting to the lass, since I knew she had little time for dalliances. Hello, young miss, my name is Artevious de Poisson, at your service. I doffed my hat in a low bow and offered her a charming smile. I know you must be harried and in a rush at all times, but please, if there is anything at all that I can do for you, you have but to ask.

Caulky gives Artevious a flat look. "I'm an officer," the girl says sharply. "You're a rigger. That means I don't even have to ask. If I need you to do something, you just do it." The teen doesn't stick her tongue at him, but he gets the strong impression she really wants to. Putting her nose in the air, the girl flounces past him once more.

Below, Grok waves her hand negligently. "Nah, I'm sure it's fine. Fishguts knows what he's doing." Chum looks across the galley - Fishguts is snoring slightly in the corner; a thin line of drool trails down from his chin, where Black-Hearted Bezebel keeps snapping at it with his beak. "You're wanting your stuff back, eh? Yeah, sure. Lemme just get it then." Grok disappears for a moment, then returns and hands a bundle through the store window. "There ya are. Best be off with you then - you're looking a bit ragged, and I like it best when you stay awake for the whole thing!" She laughs again before closing the store window once more.

Sadly, no helping each other with the tasks. Also, the damage is already done.

You can take 10 on the checks, yes. As for inspecting the guns, I'm not sure exactly what you're going for there...? It is perhaps worth noting that the Wormwood does not have any "guns" per se - the ship mounts ballistae.

Evril finds the ballistae in fine shape, well-maintained and quite deadly-looking. There are two - one on the forecastle and the other on the sterncastle, each mounted to be able to fire port and aft as well as ahead or behind (as appropriate) but not back toward the main deck.

Kipper throws a sharp glare at the Andoran when he notices the swabbie exmaining the ballistae, and snarls, "'Ey, what're you up to there!" when Evril turns his attention toward the gunner's mate.

"It's none of your business what we have," Kipper snaps, "but if you're so keen for a closer look indead of doing your work, swabbie, I'll tie you to one of the bolts and aim for the Eye of Abendego so's you can get a right close look at it! Now shove off!"